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PUT DOWN THE KEYS TO THE BMW AND TARRY AWHILE IN THE WORLD'S COMMON GRASSES. (PS: DON'T FORGET WHERE YOU LEFT THE KEYS.) |
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“Simplicity” is for simpletons
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M O N D A Y JAMES CARVILLE
MOTHERS
HONG KONG
NEWS MEDIA
BOOKS
MUSIC Interview with David Byrne BLUE GLOW
X-WORD
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BY JON CARROLL | i decided to start reading "Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy" in small doses, the way it was intended to be read. It is not a novel or a treatise; it is a series of short essays intended for daily contemplation. But I had a deadline, so I thought I'd try 10 a day for two weeks. That would get me well into April. I read the author's introduction first. In it, Sarah Ben Breathnach confesses that although she had plenty of money, success, love, family and personal freedom, she had not until recently enjoyed fulfillment. Her fulfillment came from the realization that "the authentic self is the Soul made visible," and that simplicity, gratitude, order and harmony were the keys to the creation of the authentic self. "Draw hearthside," she invites her readers, and even though the thought of anyone typing "draw hearthside" without giggling gives me cold sweats, I decided to compose myself and read sincerely. What's the matter with simplicity, even when presented in 365 bite-sized pieces in a book rather longer than "Huckleberry Finn" and only slightly shorter than "The Last Chronicle of Barset?" (Trollope is near Twain on my bookshelf.) So I drew hearthside all the way to Jan. 5, "The Woman You Were Meant To Be." I started to become outraged on behalf of my sex. Surely men too want simplicity, gratitude, order and harmony. Surely they too wish to have visible souls. Why was I invited to draw hearthside only to be told that my authentic self is a woman? On the other hand: Had I not been assigned to review this book, I would never have picked it up. Nor would any other guy I know. We might go to therapy (I have), we might attend self-help meetings (I do), but we would never slap down $18.95 for a book about simplicity. The entire wisdom business, books like "The Clarity of Stones" or "Finding Your Healing Heart" or "The Second Chance Healthy Love Book" (I am making these titles up) are all really for women. They can't say "wisdom for women" on the shelves in the bookstores, but that's what it comes down to. Still, do not men also want to lead more peaceful and centered lives? Do we not also wish to see the beauty in the commonplace? If you prick us, do we not run around the house asking where the fucking Band-Aids are? Sarah Ban Breathnach counsels: "Let's adopt a new state of mind about happiness. Admittedly, remodeling the kitchen, landing that job we've been dreaming of, or finding that special someone can make us feel (at least momentarily) happier." I have to say that remodeling the kitchen has never made me even momentarily happier. And, I realize, I know many women who are not rendered temporarily joyful by forking over 10 grand to a contractor so he can rip up your house for a month and give you some damn butcher-block island you'll knock your thighs against for months. Clearly "Simple Abundance" does not speak to all women either. The book is apparently part of something called the "Simplicity Movement," a phenomenon the exact dimensions of which are unknown to me. It seems to be based on the Buddhist idea of mindfulness, which is certainly a fine thing, although this brand of mindfulness comes unburdened with any kind of spiritual superstructure. No reincarnation is implied in its warranty; no bailment is created. One is mindful because it's more fun that way. At least in the present volume, mindfulness is sometimes indistinguishable from connoisseurship. The famous aphorism about "chop wood, carry water" would be transformed in the world of "Simple Abundance" to "chop scallions; carry a light, fruity Chardonnay." As I paged through the book (faster and faster, it must be confessed) a portrait of the target reader for "Simple Abundance" emerged. She is someone who has started with a complicated abundance (May 27 has the heartwarming story of a woman who threw away her collection of kilim pillows because she had evolved beyond their aesthetic) and is searching for the simple kind. She is someone with enough leisure time to consider scents for the linen closet the way other people would consider auto insurance plans. She is someone who works for self-fulfillment, not for money. She never has to ride on a bus, move in with her mother or take a job that involves wearing a smock. She is someone for whom mindfulness is an effective shopping technique. "Simple Abundance" takes a useful idea, mindfulness, and strips it of context. It postulates a spiritual path that is repetitive, narcissistic and meaningless; it creates the pornography of boredom.
NEXT PAGE | An excerpt from "Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy" |
